


Forced Recreation

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days you just have to have fun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forced Recreation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Imagine That #1, Brenda Cunningham editor, and reprinted in Green Floating Weirdness #20 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"We're going to have fun today – or else!"_

 

          Harrison Blackwood stood in the doorway to his seldom-used second-story bedroom and glared at the wall across the hall.  He wasn't particularly mad at the sturdy structure, it just happened to be the first thing to consciously register in his mind that morning.

          Harrison Blackwood was having one of _those_ days.

          The symptoms, however, were missed by the scientist as he contemplated structural damage.  He'd had enough.  _More_ than enough.  They couldn't expect him to keep this to himself… and he wouldn't let them.  They'd just have to accept this, like it or not… and they'd better like it.

          Blackwood's mood lifted slightly from decidedly black to dusky charcoal, and he allowed a small smile to cling tentatively to his lips.  Today he and the other members of the Blackwood Project were going to _relax_.

          After all, he concluded, this was the Blackwood Project, and he was Dr. Harrison Blackwood.  _He_ was in charge.  And if he _was_ in charge, then he could make decisions like this, and no one, absolutely no one, could stop him.

          The smile fixed a firmer grip on the contours of the face – a cross between a smug smirk and an evil grimace.

          Good, he decided.  Now that that was settled, it was time to get busy.

          He checked his watch – ten minutes after six.  He'd better hurry or they'd get busy doing… work.

          He shivered once.  It was an utterly nasty four-letter word.  But, today would be a day of three-letter words Blackwood silently decreed with authority.

          He paused a moment to see if there was any dissenting reply.  Hearing none, he took it as a sign of cosmic consent.  The universe was on his side.

          _Fun, fun, fun_ , Blackwood repeated in mental cadence as he marched to the stairs and down the steps.  Or they'd pay.  He'd see to that.

          Stalking through the hall, he headed for the basement computer work station where Norton Drake would be brewing his first pot of coffee.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The heels of Blackwood's tennis shoes rang ominously before the astrophysicist, the sound freezing Norton Drake, the half-full pot of fresh coffee nearly forgotten.  Blackwood was in one of _those_ moods; the computer expert could hear it in the echoing ring as clearly as a shout.

          "Norton?" the scientist demanded, entering the room.

          "Yeah, Doc?" the Black man responded lightly, leveling a huge, placating smile on Blackwood.  It was best to play along with whatever Harrison wanted when he sounded like this.

          Norton smiled inwardly.  Ironhorse hadn't seen the scientist in one of _those_ moods… yet.  The day could definitely be more interesting than the computer expert had anticipated.

          Blackwood tramped to Norton's work station and pressed the switch to turn off the color monitor.  "No work today, Norton.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  Zed—"

          "I get the picture, Doc."

          "We're going to have _fun_ today.  We're going to _relax_.  Understand?"

          "Sounds good to me," Norton quipped as he shrugged, then, leaning back in the voice-activated wheelchair, he interlaced his fingers and pillowed his head in the hammock they provided.  "Real good."

          "Good," Blackwood proclaimed, spinning on his toe and storming away.

          Norton watched him go, a twinkle in his eyes.  _This ought to be good_ , he thought, wondering how long it would take the colonel to explode when faced with Blackwood at critical-irritation-mass.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Reaching the top of the stairs, Blackwood spotted Suzanne in the hall.  She was on her way to the kitchen.

          "Wait right there!" he bellowed at the microbiologist.

          McCullough turned, an expression of amazed concern on her face.  "Is there something wrong, Harrison?"

          "Yes," the astrophysicist stated as he cornered her.  "We are _not_ working today, Suzanne.  We're having _fun_.  Understand?"

          His blue eyes narrowed dangerously as Suzanne paused in her reply, her gaze critically perusing Blackwood's body for any sign of injury or illness.

          "Fun?" Suzanne finally asked, folding her arms across her chest as images of the stack of cultures and rows of slides waiting for her attention loomed up in her mind.

          "Yes.  _Fun_.  Does that create a problem for you, Doctor?" Blackwood asked through nearly gritted teeth.

          Suzanne's eyebrows climbed slowly toward her hairline.  "No.  No problem," she replied calmly, deciding to humor the astrophysicist.  The earlier visions were quickly replaced with trees, grass, her daughter, and a frisbee.  She smiled.  "I'm sure I can find something amusing to do with Debi."

          "Good.  So long as you're having _fun_."

          Blackwood stepped aside to allow Suzanne to pass, but she waved him on, following him to the kitchen where he delivered the same commandment to Mrs. Pennyworth.

          The older woman nodded and smiled politely.  "What a wonderful idea, Dr. Blackwood," she concluded, patting his arm and brushing past him to set the table for breakfast.

          Turning to the microbiologist, Harrison issued the order, "You tell Debi.  I'm going to inform the Omega Squad and Ironhorse."

          Suzanne nodded once, saluted, spun on her toe, and marched out, shaking her head.  She always knew Blackwood was a nutcase, and now she had the proof.

          "I can't wait to see what happens when he tells Paul," she said softly as she passed the housekeeper on her way back to the kitchen.

          "Oh no, dear," Mrs. Pennyworth said, her lips pressing together in a line of barely controlled humor, "it's not polite to watch blood being spilled this early in the morning."

          "You're probably right," Suzanne said with a giggle.  "I'll go warn Debi before Harrison gets to her and scares her half to death.  If I didn't know that crystal was locked in a Ft. Streeter vault, I'd swear the man had been exposed again."

          "Crystal?" Mrs. P asked.

          Suzanne smiled.  "Remind me later, I'll tell you a little story."

          "Oh, I'll remember," the housekeeper said with a conspiratorial nod.  "Sounds too good to miss."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse wasn't in his office, so Blackwood proceeded to the coach house.  Three sharp knocks brought Sergeant Norah Coleman to the door.

          She answered in the "attention" stance.  "Yessir!"  Finding Blackwood there, she relaxed slightly.  "Dr. Blackwood?  Is something wrong?"

          "Yes, something _is_ wrong.  We're not having enough fun around here, Sergeant.  And if we're not having fun, we're doing something wrong," he stated emphatically, leaning in closer to the Special Forces noncom.  "Don't you agree?"

          The woman's dark eyebrows peaked below her honey blond hair.  "Sir?" she asked.

          "You do realize that I'm the civilian-in-command around here, don't you, Sergeant?"

          "Yessir," she replied, her gaze rapidly scanning his person for any sign of an alien takeover.

          "Good.  Then I'm _ordering_ you and the rest of Omega Squad _not_ to work today.  I want you to have _fun_."  He smiled, but it looked more like an invitation to a mental hospital.

          "Sir," she said hesitantly, "how are we supposed to do that?  I mean—"

          "How?" Blackwood interrupted, his voice getting louder.  " _How_ , Sergeant?  Has it been _that_ long?  Have you actually _forgotten_ how to have fun?"

          "No, sir, but—"

          " _Fun_ , you have _fun!_   You relax, and enjoy, read, watch a movie, play a little ball—"  The scientist stopped mid-sentence, a spark of excitement flaring in his eyes, causing the soldier to take a step backwards.  Harrison fixed a blue stare on her.  "Playing softball is fun, isn't it, Sergeant?"

          "Uh, yessir," Coleman quickly agreed.  Better to go along and wait for backup to arrive.

          "Good!  Then that's what we're going to do!"

          "What's that, Doctor?"

          "We're going to play softball, Sergeant!  We're going to have _fun!_   The back lawn in fifteen minutes, Sergeant.  Bring the rest of the squad and whatever equipment you have. And that's an order!"

          "Yessir!" she said, snapping to attention once again.

          Blackwood nodded once, then turned and headed back to the Cottage, his stride purposeful.  Only Ironhorse was left.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Coleman relaxed, collapsing back against the door frame.

          "What was that all about?" Stravrakos asked, stepping up behind Norah to peek out at the rapidly retreating figure of Harrison Blackwood.

          She glared at the soldier, and at Derriman, who stood behind him.  "You two were a helluva lotta help."

          "What do you think got into him?" Derriman asked.

          "I don't know," Coleman said, straightening.  "But I for one plan to be on the back lawn in fifteen minutes, ready to have _fun_.  I suggest you two do the same."

          The two other sergeants nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After ordering Norton, Suzanne, Debi and Mrs. Pennyworth to report to the lawn for a game of softball, the astrophysicist disappeared into his office closet.  Ironhorse found Blackwood there, the bumps and mumbling drawing the soldier's attention as he passed by on his way in from his morning run.

          "Blackwood?" Paul called, stepping into the man's office.

          The sounds in the closet ceased, the door opened, and Harrison emerged carrying a bat, a glove and a baseball that someone had doodled a clown face on.

          "Ironhorse, I've been looking for you."

          Twin black eyebrows rose.  "I was out for my morning run, Doctor.  Like I am every morning at this time."

          "That's work," the astrophysicist stated, his eyes narrowing.

          The dark eyebrows arched further up the soldier's forehead.  "Yes, it is—"

          "We are _not_ working today, Colonel.  We're having _fun_."

          "Fun, Doctor?"

          "Fun, Colonel.  Now, as the man in charge of this Project, you have—"  Blackwood checked his watch.  "Five minutes to get ready for a game of softball.  Meet the rest of us out on the back lawn.  And that's an order, Mister," he finished, trekking past the stunned soldier and out of the room.

          Ironhorse closed his mouth and considered.  There were times in battle when one dug in and held a position at all costs, and there were other times when you put your ass in gear and beat a strategic withdrawal with all due possible speed.  This was definitely one of the latter cases.

          Turning, he headed down to his locker in the small sub-basement gym.  They were going to have _fun_ today.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Blackwood glanced down at his watch for the fifth time in twenty seconds, then looked over at the Omegans.  They were huddled together in a group.  Coleman smiled reassuringly at him.  No doubt she realized that he had spoken to Ironhorse – and the Colonel was _late_.

          He checked the watch again.  _Where the hell is he?_   Blackwood sucked in a deep breath, deciding to go back for the man, when a voice stopped him.

          "All right, who's playing on whose team?"

          Harrison turned to find a stranger walking up to join them.  The man was dressed in black gym shorts, a white tee-shirt, and a black baseball cap, the bill pulled around to point toward the back.  He was also carrying another bat and glove.

          "Colonel!" Debi squealed, running over to the man.  "I want to be on your team.  Harrison's acting _weird_."

          "Dr. Blackwood _is_ weird, Debi," Ironhorse explained simply.  "But you can be on my team anyway."

          The girl smiled.

          "Your turn, Doctor," Ironhorse said, striding over to Blackwood and pressing the equipment into the scientist's empty hands.

          "Turn?" the civilian asked, confused.  This couldn't be Paul Ironhorse.  Not his Lieutenant Colonel Paul Ironhorse.  No, whoever this was looked relaxed, playful, almost like a kid…

          "To pick a team member," the stranger explained.

          "Sergeant?"

          "Yessir!" chorused three voices.

          Blackwood shook his head and took a step back.  It was a ploy.  Ironhorse was tying to psych him out.  The colonel must have had some kind of work planned for today, and now he was trying to get even, well, it wasn't going to happen.

          _Not in this lifetime, Colonel_ , Blackwood concluded silently.

          "Coleman.  I'll take Coleman," Harrison said.

          The woman swallowed and took a hesitant step forward.  "Oh boy," she whispered.

          "Stravrakos," Ironhorse said.

          "Suzanne," Blackwood countered.

          Debi laughed.  "We're going to beat you, mom!"

          "We'll just see about that," the microbiologist said, joining Coleman for moral support.

          "Norton," Ironhorse announced.

          "Mrs. P."

          "Oh, no, Doctor," the housekeeper said.  "I'll just be the umpire."

          "Okay," Blackwood said.  "Derriman."

          "Goodson," the colonel called, deciding he'd rather have the medic on his team – just in case.

          "Mathews, Peterson, and Hawthorne," Harrison concluded, leaving Alverez and Stein for Ironhorse.

          The colonel nodded his agreement.

          A heated discussion then erupted as Blackwood and the colonel tried to decide which team would bat first.  Debi interrupted, suggesting that they do what the teachers at her school did to solve similar problems.  The team captains, she explained, picked a number between one and ten and the teacher said which one was closer.

          The two men turned to Mrs. Pennyworth.

          "Three," Ironhorse said.

          "Seven," Blackwood countered.

          Mrs. Pennyworth's brow wrinkled.  "Well, you're both two digits away.  I picked five. Let's do it again."

          "One," the colonel said.

          "Ten," parried the scientist.

          "Oh, dear," the housekeeper whispered.  "I picked five again.  I'll pick another one this time…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Hey, batter-batter-batter," Norton chanted from behind Blackwood.  As catcher, he was in a unique position to watch the rest of his team, and offer what help he could by badgering those who came up to the plate.

          Blackwood let the bat drop onto his shoulder.  He turned to face the black man.  "If you wouldn't mind," he ground out.  "I'm trying to concentrate."

          "I know," Norton replied sweetly.  "I'm just following orders, Harrison.  I'm supposed to have _fun_ , remember?"

          "Come on, Harrison," Debi called from her position at short stop.  "Can't you take a little heat?"

          The scientist leveled the girl with a glare.  "And _where_ did you hear that, young lady, as if I didn't know!"

          Ironhorse delivered his pitch, and Blackwood swung.

          "You're out!" Mrs. Pennyworth bellowed.  "But I'm sure you'll do better next time, Doctor," she consoled in a softer tone as Harrison shuffled away, mumbling to himself.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Okay, this is it," Ironhorse said to his team as they huddled together.  "Blackwood's got us down by three.  This is the last inning, so unless you want to put up with him gloating for the next week, we have to get a streak going."

          "Absolutely," Norton concurred.  "He's impossible now.  If we lose, well, it won't be a pretty existence, I can promise you that."

          Debi nodded.  "Mom's a good pitcher, huh?"

          "Yes, she is," the colonel agreed.  "I should've picked her before Blackwood did."  He stuck his hand out, the others covering it with theirs.  "Okay," he concluded, "let's go kick some a— ah, butt."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Norton held the bat and stared out at Suzanne.  "Hey, batter-batter-batter," echoed out of right field where Blackwood stood, a gloating, victorious grin on his face.  The computer expert ignored the chanting, and focused on the clown face hurtling toward him.

          He swung.

          A sharp _crack_ echoed across the grounds and Norton whooped.  "Gertrude, ahead, warp factor nine!"

          Grabbing the wheels of his chair, he pushed the usually voice-activated wheelchair along as fast as he could.  Reaching second base, he allowed himself a look in the direction the ball had gone.  Blackwood was still running.  Drake rounded the wadded up tee-shirt and headed for third where Ironhorse was waiting, yelling, "Go, go, go!"

          Norton cleared third, barely missing the colonel's toes, and pushed harder as he closed on home.  He rolled to a stop at the wadded-up apron just in time to turn and watch Blackwood heave the ball back to the diamond.  It fell with a _thud_ three feet short of Norton and Derriman.

          "Yes!" Drake exclaimed, his arms shooting up in a victory celebration.

          After Stravrakos and Alverez both popped up flies that Coleman skillfully managed, Debi took her turn at bat.  The girl was nervous.  There were two outs, and they needed two runs to beat Harrison.  The colonel was next, so if she could just get on base, they still had a chance.  She took a deep breath and re-set her grip on the bat.

          Suzanne pitched.

          Debi swung, her eyes closing in anxiety at the last second, but the impact of the ball popped them open again and she tossed the bat aside, scampering to first base while Blackwood tried to get in under the wobbly fly.

          His concentration on the falling orb, Harrison missed the gopher mound.  With a strangled yell, the civilian's feet flew out from under him, depositing the astrophysicist in a heap on the grass.

          "Very nice, Doctor," Ironhorse called as Blackwood climbed to his feet, brushing off the bits and pieces of foliage that clung to him.  "You have a name for that?"

          Suzanne waited for her teammate to return to his position.  _Poor Harrison_ , she thought.  Everyone else was having fun, but the scientist just couldn't seem to get the hang of it himself.  She grinned.  Well, it served him right.

          She regarded Ironhorse.  _Okay, McCullough, here goes… three strikes and you can gloat for at least two or three days…_

          Ironhorse swung the bat back, his knees bending slightly.  He felt a tingle, a premonition about where the ball was going.  Suzanne pitched.  He swung, connecting solidly with the clown's red-ink nose.  He dropped the bat and ran.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi watched the ball for a full three seconds before she realized she was supposed to be running.  She headed out at top speed, but the colonel quickly caught up to her.

          "Go, Deb!  Go!" he commanded.

          "I am!" she yelled back.

          They reached second base at the same instant.  Ironhorse's arm snaked around her waist as they headed for third, tightening as he lifted her off the ground and continued running.

          "Feet down!" he yelled as they reached the base.

          The girl's feet pistoned out and he planted them in the middle of the dish towel.  When she pulled them up he trampled over the cloth himself.

          "Hurry!" Drake yelled from near home plate.

          Ironhorse knew Blackwood was coming.  He didn't know how, but he could feel the astrophysicist bearing down on them.

          "We're going to slide," the colonel told the girl.

          "What?" she squealed, blue eyes going wide.  Even if it was grass, he was heavy!

          "Go, big guy, go!" Norton encouraged.

          "Come on, Colonel!" Stravakos echoed.

          Ironhorse's grip tightened and he launched himself, turning just enough to keep Debi off the ground while his shoulder hit, the pair flying along the grass, coming to rest on top of the cloth.

          "Safe!" Mrs. Pennyworth declared.

          Blackwood stumbled to a stop two feet away, the ball in one hand.   He panted for breath as he stared down at the pair.  Both Debi and Ironhorse were grinning like kids.

          _At least Debi has an excuse_ , he thought.  _She_ is _a kid_.

          "Harrison, why didn't you throw it?" Suzanne asked, coming up to stand next to the panting scientist.

          "He was having too much fun!" Norton answered for the winded Blackwood.

          The assembled group erupted into laughter.

          Blackwood just sighed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse found the astrophysicist sitting in the living room, a half-empty tube of Bengay in his hand.  He sniffed and walked over to take a seat by the empty fireplace.

          "Well, Doctor, that was quite an idea you had; seems like everyone enjoyed themselves.  The squad and Debi are already planning a volleyball game for next week, if things stay quiet."

          "Wonderful," Blackwood mumbled.

          Ironhorse fought to keep the smile off his face.  "What's the matter, Harrison?  Upset because you got beat?"

          That brought Blackwood's head up.  "No."

          "Then what?"

          Harrison paused for a moment, trying to decide how he should explain.

          "Come on, Doctor, you can tell me."

          Blackwood leveled a blue glare on the man.  "I'll have you know I heard comments today, Colonel.  Comments concerning several parts of your anatomy."

          "Oh?" Ironhorse questioned.  "From who?"

          "Females… _all_ the females."

          A slight blush colored Paul's cheeks, but he was sure it was hidden in the dim late-evening light.  "And that's a problem?"

          "Why did you change into that outfit?" Blackwood asked suspiciously.

          Ironhorse opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again.  He cleared his throat. "Well, Doctor, to tell you the truth, I decided you were getting a little stressed and needed to blow off some steam, so I took you at your word and decided to have some fun."

          "And did you?" Blackwood asked.

          "Of course," Ironhorse replied, then smiled and added, "We won."

          Harrison's blue eyes narrowed.

          "I take it the ladies liked the outfit?"

          "I don't want to discuss it," the astrophysicist mumbled.

          "Think of it this way, Harrison.  You'll have an opportunity to make an impression on the ladies when we have that volleyball game."  Ironhorse grinned.  "Just remember," he said sagely, "if you're not having fun, you're doing something wrong!"

          Blackwood groaned.


End file.
